The Winding Road
by Appleblx
Summary: Of all the characters in Tokyo mew mew, Little is known about Fujiwara Zakuro. Few people know she was really born to the name Charlotte, in Atlanta, Georgia, for instance. This story goes into the famous yet withdrawn mew's past.
1. Chapter 1

Appleblx: I'll have you know, I didn't write this! My friend Liz did, and I had to post it for her :) Enjoy anyway~

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><p>My life story is complicated- I won't deny it.<p>

I was born in Atlanta, Georgia to two blonde- haired, blue- eyed parents. I was born with black hair and green eyes.

My parents were very superstitious, and thought I was a bad omen. They gave me the name they had planned for their blonde- haired, blue- eyed daughter- Charlotte.

I spent the first four years of my life with them, happy and loved.

They were almost ready to give up on the superstitions when disaster struck.

It was my first day of kindergarten, and I was excited but nervous, like all kids are. My parents brought me to school and my day was going well, until nap-time.

I _refused_ to take a nap, and when the teacher tried to calm me down, I punched her in the face so hard her nose broke.

Needless to say, I was expelled. and my parent's fading superstitions were confirmed. School simply went downhill from there- I was expelled from two more schools that month, and by Christmas, my parents decided to home-school me. I slowly excelled in everything- coloring, numbers, and whatever else kindergarteners do- except language.

Anything that had to do with English, I struggled in. I was sent to a doctor, and what he said was that basically my mind was hard- wired to Japanese. He recommended that I try learning Japanese- and if that didn't work, then I was just another kid with a mental disorder to be referred to some other professional.

I had my fifth birthday on March nineteenth, and my parents decided to try teaching me Japanese. They took free lessons online and then tried teaching me.

Every word they said, I understood. Even though they hardly knew what they were saying, it was just like talking to someone with an accent.

They signed me up with a Japanese- English tutor, but she was used to teaching children from Japan english, so she couldn't help me that much.

My parents, still confused with the whole ordeal, began to make appointments with more and more professionals and doctors and psychologists.

Being only five and a half, I really didn't understand what the problem was- Japanese just clicked, like riding a bike.

My parents found a professional who lived 3 hours away who specialized in my "condition". She spoke briskly, saying that she knew of one thing that might help me be more normal.

I glanced up from the doll who's hair I was brushing, and gave the grown-ups an inquisitive look. "What we could do," the doctor continued, "is send her to Japan."

After some discussion- or, rather, persuasion- my parents cast another glance my way. My mother came over to me and asked, "Do you know where Japan is, sweetie?"

"Nope!" I replied in my little kindergartener voice.

After a moment, my mommy, who I trusted and loved said, "Because you'll be living there"


	2. Chapter 2

Six months later, after I celebrated my sixth birthday, my mother began to tell me about Japan.

She read me Japanese fairy tales at bedtime, and let me watch as many anime shows as I wanted.

I began to build an image in my mind of how I thought Japan would look- with skyscrapers and big cities, and little quaint houses with flowers in the front yard, and Japanese _Hiragana_ symbols everywhere, like a never-ending newspaper covering everything.

Two months before school was going to start, I said _Sayonara_ to Atlanta and stepped on a plane with an escort my parents had paid.

When I'd first been told I was moving, my parents had seemed upset. However, they didn't seem sad at all as I, their only child, boarded a plane to another country.

I switched planes in San Francisco. After eight hours in a seat, I spent the two-hour layover racing up and down the terminal. The escort- man tried chasing me for a while, then gave up.

If I hadn't been running, I might've heard the escort-dude saying, "I tell you, she's one of them. I'm completely sure!" But I was running around like an idiot and so I didn't hear him.

After we landed in Tokyo Airport, the escort explained a few things to me.

He told me that the people I would be staying with were the Fujiwara family.

Their daughter, who was my age, had the same condition I did- but she was learning English.

I'd been assigned to them so that hopefully, I could communicate with her.

Before I could meet them, there was some legal stuff that needed to be done.

The escort hailed a taxi, and then he heaved my three stuffed suitcases into the trunk. He told the driver the address, and we arrived at the office fifteen minutes later.

"_Arigatou_" I said to the driver. Thank you.

My luggage was taken out of the taxi, and rolled up to the office building.

It appeared to be under construction, and looked a bit like a cake. The inside looked a lot like a cafe, but there weren't any tables yet.

The escort handed a folder to the guy at the desk, who looked no older than 16 and had blonde hair.

He thumbed through a folder on the desk, mumbling "_Hai, hai, hai_" _yes, yes, yes._

"Everything appears to be in order... except your name" he was speaking in Japanese, but I understood him perfectly.

"What's wrong with it?" I inquired. "You'll have to change it, since it has letters we don't have. If you want to be able to write your name, I'll pick something for you." he thumbed through another document before handing me a piece of paper.

On it was an official certificate saying that my name was being changed to...

_Zakuro._ Zakuro Fujiwara.


	3. Chapter 3

Appleblx:Wow! Lizzy's on a role here!

After almost ten minutes of searching, I found the dining room.

Or rather, I heard a few people talking, and some light classical music playing.

I came up to a large, ornate door and knew that the dining room was on the other side. I looked at the clock on the wall above the doors, and it said that I was five minutes early.

I cautiously pressed my ear against the door, and listened. Maids were setting the table and gossiping about me.

"Zakuro, I heard her name was. If she's the same as the young mistress, we're in for a lot of work around here."

"Maybe so, but it's what we're paid to do, so we should just be quiet and do it."

I pulled my ear away from the door as I heard footsteps approaching.

A girl appeared, the same girl who'd opened the door earlier. "Hello, I'm Chizuka! Who're you?"

I could tell that this was the girl who was supposed to be my friend. I had no intention of that.

"_Watashi wa Zakuro_" I responded. _I am Zakuro._

We both knew what each other was saying, even speaking different languages. That was strange.

"Are you ready for dinner? We can go in now," Chizuka said.

"Sure," I said.

She pushed open the door and we stepped inside.

The dining room was huge, a chandelier the size of my bedroom dazzling me as I entered.

_I should get used to this, or I'll seem like an oddball. _

The broad, polished mahogany table ran the length of the room, and was so large you could hold a dance on only the table and it wouldn't be crowded at all.

But the table was so large, that the four place settings at one end looked insignificant.

Chizuka and I took two places next to each other, and waited for her parent's arrival. They arrived about two minutes after we did, and took the other two vacant seats. Her father nodded formally in my direction and rang a small bell next to his plate.

The serving of dinner had begun. The chefs filed out of double doors in the corner, and placed ten silver platters, heaping with expensive food, in front of us.

The food was like nothing I had ever tasted, like a million different subtle flavors all mixed in just the right way so that it tasted like I was eating heaven.

Mr. Fujiwara asked me a few questions about home, America, and my hobbies.

"Acting," I said, "My only real hobby is acting,"

He looked at me, then at his wife. "Acting, huh? Well, we can make that happen. Zakuro Fujiwara is a name that will be known around the world as a gorgeous, famous actress."


	4. Chapter 4

After some more small talk, and mouth-watering chocolate mousse, we were dismissed. On the way out of the room, I tentatively asked Chizuka if we had to go to bed now.

"No, we do not. We can stay awake for a while."

"Arigatou," I said, but half-heartedly, because something had clicked. The girl wasn't trying to speak formally, she simply hadn't learned to speak informally.

I assumed that that's how I sounded, not using any shortened words and only using complete sentences. I noticed it, and planned to improve.

Since it was only seven thirty, I decided to work on Japanese a bit before a shower and bed. I glanced around the room, towards a desk in the corner. On it was a brand- new computer, with a note on it.

"For learning our language and any other uses, this computer has been provided for you."

I awoke the next morning in heaven. Not literal heaven, but surrounded by too many pillows to count, At least ten.

I pulled myself out of bed and glanced at the clock. As I was getting out of bed, a maid came in.

"What would you like for breakfast, Zakuro-Chan?"

I answered carefully, "One waffle with strawberries on top, please?"

The maid left, and then another maid came back with a note.

_What's with all the notes? _I thought, taking it. It was a typed note, written in Japanese. It said basically that Mr. Fujiwara had found an acting audition that I could go to today, if I wanted to.

I found a pen and scribbled "_Hai, Arigatou Gozaimasu_" on the back. _Yes, thank you very much._

I walked into the Tokyo 7 soundstage at nine o'clock. After asking a few people, I was directed to a large room on the other side of the complex where the auditions were being held.

I knocked on the door, and someone inside called out, "Come in please"

I pushed the door open to reveal a large room, filled with girls about my age.

As soon as I began to read, the director began to smile. I pretended not to notice and continued to pour my heart into that script.

By the time everyone else finished reading, The director kept glancing my way. He soon said that everyone had done well, but he wanted to talk to me a minute and they could go.

I got the part, needless to say. My second day in a new country, and I got a starring role in a new TV show. That meant fame.

Before I left Tokyo 7 that day, I was already coming up with a personality the press would like, and considering dying my hair.

My future was looking promising.

As soon as the driver got home from Tokyo 7 studios, I already had an idea.

_Purple_. That was the color I wanted my fans to see my hair.

Wait, _fans?_ The show hadn't even started yet, and I was getting a big head.

I proposed dying my hair at dinner that night.

Mrs. Fujiwara said that she could hire a stylist to come the next day. I then called the TV show to verify I would still have the part if I dyed my hair.

It was confirmed.

Zakuro Fujiwara would have purple hair.


End file.
